Pits and pockmarks
flit and dart
across an infinite ceiling.
Random synchronicity
plays patter song
stupor and languidity
The orchestra conducting
purple and yellow
to a sparkling, a
crushing crescendo
falls like a wave on tastebuds, tempting.
She lingers like
fog on a pane of glass
A sharp signature
impaled on a pile
of dreaming dust.
Like a rushed column
updraft through a house
of leaves blank and staring.
A mark from the
back of your palms up.
Your fingers stuck signing
a language sang by the blind.
How did she stay so long
A force hidden in neuron canyons.
A Gypsy camp lodged
between cortexes
spinning silk into a
muffled gasp, a conspiratory shuffle.
She lingers like spines of glass
in nailbeds, planted sweetly,
with the best of care.
Laughter in an asylum
electroshock dreams soaked in sweat.
Grabbed my brain like a chemical symphony.
Painted pictures of pivotal seconds,
wrapped up and romanticized.
Dreamt about.
Your lilting language planted
little honeypots deep in my palms.
Sparked fire from entropy
lighting a city in my chest.
But now these buildings tower
like Goliath in David’s dreams.
I need to escape
I need to slide out of
this sleep you’ve monopolized.
Sucking dreams
like smokering fingerprints
left on the cleft of my conscience.
The old taqueria on Victory.
The Bourgeois Pig.
The bitter spice of winter
painted over the cracks
crumbling the walls.
These waking hallucinations
haunt my habits.
Still frequent the holeinthewall
dives in my heart.